On my heart this morning… probably hormones, my new crutch for everything I do that’s crazy.
I was sitting at an Eastern basketball game last night with my oldest girl, Caroline, who is now 24 and who was 8 like yesterday. But she mentioned how much she’d give to play one more game and a wave washed over me that reminded me of probably the saddest day of my children’s school years. For those with little ones, bear with me. For those who have been there, well, you’ve been there.
It was 2008 and it was the last game my oldest daughter played a sport in high school. It wasn’t the sport of basketball that mattered, she’d played almost everything, but this particular night was the “last” game of the “last” sport, and that hit me as she was running up and down the court. I began to cry. I almost had to go out but I realized I couldn’t, I might miss a moment. We’d watched this girl, and our other two, play something on a field or court since five years old and I realized her Mama would never see her do this again.
When my babies started kindergarten, I was so excited for them, I didn’t cry. When my girls graduated, I was so excited for them, I didn’t cry. In fact, I worried something was wrong with me. But to me, those events were doors opening and I loved it! This was different. It was the door closing on something that had consumed our lives since being old enough to hold a ball.
I have many friends with little ones involved in anything and everything and to you I say, I’d give my last dollar to be in the middle of where you are, to have all three of mine playing at three fields at the same time again, LOL, yes, I would, as would the Bald Eagle.
I have one baby left, my big tall baby boy, and life becomes measured by seasons. I have just three seasons left at EA…. just three seasons. They’ll have to bring me a darn oxygen tank to the last game of the last season with this one.
So the next time you’re washing that dirty uniform, hang on to it for a few seconds and be thankful. Next time you’re cleaning the mud out of your car and off your seats, remember it’s the car carrying memories of this crazy time you.. will…miss, be thankful. Next time you’re driving through McDonald’s on the way to a game, and feeling horribly guilty about it, be thankful you can. Next time you want to run down “that” coach in the parking lot (and yes, you’ll probably have one you feel that way about), remember that good or bad, he or she is the tool to help teach your children who they do or do not want to be when they grow up. Next time you go to bed mentally and physically exhausted, say a prayer of thanks for one more inning, one more quarter, one more match, one more recital, one more competition. And the next time you’re driving to that one…more…practice,…or one…more…game, look in the rear view mirror, let your view warm your heart, and be thankful. You are blessed.
All I know is I better live long enough to have me a darn little grandbaby ball team. 🙂
Finding My Bootstraps... 